


Ship To Wreck

by ObscureReference



Series: (had me feeling like a) ghost [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Disabled Character, Character Death Fix, Communication, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Nosebleed, Resurrection, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: Some things get better. Others do not.Or, Prompto tells himself that they're over the hard part.They really aren't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the Florence and the Machine song, "Ship to Wreck."
> 
> My exams just finished and I honestly finished the last part of this fic that was giving me trouble an hour ago. I should probably examine it a bit more, but I'm not patient. Tell me if you see any mistakes and I'll do my best to fix them! Happy Spring Break to those of you in school!
> 
> Fun Fact: the concept for this chapter originally started out way different. Iris was there for one thing. There was monster hunting. Obviously that didn't happen here.

There were four chairs at the table. Four chairs but only three people who regularly occupied the bedroom. Presumably the fourth chair had been for guests. Prompto wondered how many evenings they’d sat down together and ignored the empty space between them.

They settled in, Gladio and Ignis on either side of Prompto and Noctis straight across. It was a tense few seconds as they got comfortable.

Gladio opened with, “So you thought we’d forget about you.”

It was a harsh blow. One that had already been said, but harsh nonetheless. Prompto flinched.

Gladio’s face was as impassive as ever, but Prompto could see a younger Gladio hidden away in his chiseled features. Not that Gladio had ever really been _un_ chiseled. But Prompto could see exactly how Gladio had matured with time, and how much more composed he looked questioning Prompto now than he may have been when they first met.

“I might’ve,” Prompto admitted. “You didn’t want me to come to bed with you.”

He was looking at Gladio, but it was Ignis who answered.

“Prompto,” Ignis said. “You had just woken up from a very traumatic experience in a world ten years off your assumed timeline. It would have been very irresponsible to presume you wanted anything but time to work things out on your own.”

Well, when he put it like _that_ …

A weight left Prompto’s shoulders. He pouted. “You guys didn’t have to be such jerks about it.”

He adopted a much more light-hearted tone than he felt, and it paid off when Ignis smiled.

“I suppose we may have come off somewhat brusque,” Ignis admitted. Noctis knocked their knees together.

“And you told me off for being too forward,” Noctis teased. He had looked so devastated, so _hurt_ when Prompto had let his insecurities slip a moment ago, but he looked relaxed now. Seated between Gladio and Ignis, Noctis was at his most comfortable. There was still some tense lines around his mouth that hadn’t faded, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been.

“I wanted to see where you stood first,” Gladio said. “Before we assumed anything.”

Prompto breathed in.

“I’ve always stood with you guys,” he said, his voice softer than he would have liked. “Always.”

Noctis leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“I—presumed a lot at the start, but Ignis and Gladio are right,” Noctis said kindly. “We want you to know what you’re getting into before you agree to anything.”

Prompto could barely believe what he was hearing. As though anything could have _possibly_ changed so much that he no longer wanted them. Even now he ached to throw himself across the table and hold them close. Sleeping alone last night had been one of the worst experiences of his _life_.

He licked his lips. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on, generally. Or now, specifically. But I know you guys. And I know I still want you, if you’ll have me.”

Prompto bit his lip. Before anyone could say anything, Gladio reached over and ruffled his hair. His touch sent sparks along Prompto’s skin.

“You idiot,” Gladio said, his fingers tangling themselves in Prompto’s locks. “As though that were ever even a question.”

Prompto released a shaky breath. His eyes were a little wetter than they should have been. He blinked the moisture away.

If he wasn’t mistaken, he thought Noctis looked a little wet around the eyes too. Nobody mentioned it. Gladio had averted his eyes to stare up at the light on the ceiling, looking unusually stiff. Ignis had an impeccable poker face, but he was also wearing his sunglasses.

“You haven’t even heard what’s changed,” Noctis said. “How do you know for sure?”

Prompto sniffed. “Well. If you eat vegetables now, I think we’re going to have to call this whole thing off.”

Everyone laughed, though they weren’t as boisterous or loud as they had once been. Even Prompto cracked a smile at his own joke.

He continued, “But if it’s anything else, I think we’re okay.”

They were okay. They would be. Prompto would make sure of it.

Gladio’s fingers still hadn’t left his hair. Prompto didn’t want him to let go. He leaned into the touch and saw Gladio looking at him with something indecipherable. Prompto ached.

A beat passed, a quiet moment where they all sat there and listened to each other breathing, and then Gladio said, again, “You thought we’d forget you.”

It was difficult to swallow, but Prompto somehow managed.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, his throat dry.

Gladio’s hand froze in his hair.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It has.”

The pad of Gladio’s fingers grazed the top of Prompto’s ear as he pulled back. Prompto regretted opening his big mouth.

“Now that that’s established,” Ignis said, crossing his legs. “Let’s talk about specifics.”

 

 

 

 

So they talked.

For a long time.

A few different people interrupted them to inform the king that he had royal duties to oversee, but Ignis and Noctis took turns telling the messengers to, in polite terms with big words, fuck off. The last messenger was answered by Gladio. Gladio stared until the messenger eventually left. Nobody else knocked after that.

That tidbit aside, there was a _lot_ of talking. Prompto couldn’t remember the last time he’d put his emotions on display like this. It felt like he was clawing his own chest open sometimes. It was difficult, and he wanted to take a break at a few different points, but he knew if they stopped now that they’d never get through it all. And they _needed_ to get through it or else they’d be dancing around each other for the next forever, and that was the last thing Prompto wanted. So he plowed through.

Specifics turned out to be a lot of saying, _“Let’s go slow.”_

Things had been hard the past few years, Ignis said. They had adapted, obviously, but it had taken time. And this would take time too. Nobody explicitly said so, but Prompto gathered that things had been pretty rough for a while. He assured the guys he knew what he was getting into. That was probably only partly true, but he would accept anything that came his way anyway.

The new rules included: If someone said to slow down, you slowed down. If someone said stop, you stopped. Even if you were just hanging out. Everyone communicates any worries they have with everyone else. No exceptions.

“Above all else, we will _talk_ to one another.” Even with his lack of sight, Ignis still managed to shoot Noctis and Gladio a _look_.

Noctis leaned back in his chair and stretched out his leg until his foot hit Prompto’s under the table. “Obviously we’ve had trouble with that one.”

A ghost of a smile graced Gladio’s face. “Obviously.”

“I can tell,” Prompto said. They were joking, but there was something heavy in their expressions that said this had been a serious problem.

So the main rule was that he shouldn’t bottle up his emotions. Which was perfect because bottling up his emotions was only one of Prompto’s favorite things to do. Noctis had scolded—used to scold—him enough that Prompto knew it was true. So that was definitely going to be a struggle. But he could at least try not to keep everything to himself, even if he couldn’t follow through.

So there were both old scars and fresh wounds at Prompto’s reappearance. There were probably bumps in the road they couldn’t even see yet. They would have to tread carefully. But they could do this.

They told him about Insomnia, about how a lot of the rebuilding had been finished but there was still more to go. Most of the people who had sought refuge in Lestallum had returned but not all. They didn’t know what had happened to Prompto’s parents. His old house had either been destroyed in the Niflheim invasion or it had new tenants by now, but of course Prompto had a place here in the Citadel, no matter what happened, they assured him.

The knowledge that even that tiny bit of normalcy had been taken from him stung, but Prompto swallowed it. He would no doubt miss his parents, but they had never been close. He hoped they were living well in Lestallum or some other town, but he had pretty much accepted his parents and house were gone back when Insomnia had first fallen and they hadn’t called. And if things were still changing even now, he might as well accept that everything was different. No use comparing the new to the old.

The age of daemons was over, Gladio said. The night was empty now, save for the normal nighttime hazards. Daylight monsters and beasts still roamed the land, but they had never been as big of a problem. Monsters were just like normal animals, if scarier. Daemons—the real threat—were gone.

It was what they had been aiming for all along, what they had expected to happen when they killed Ardyn, but Prompto was still blown away to hear it was true. He didn’t think he’d completely believe it until he saw it.

A world with no more daemons. A world with no more reasons to fear the dark. He didn’t know what that world was like.

Noctis’ ascension to the throne was regarded as the cause of the daemon’s disappearances, and he was beloved for it, though some regarded him with suspicion or distrust for one reason or another. Noctis got a funny look on his face as Ignis and Gladio recounted this information. Prompto laughed. Even now, his best friend wasn’t used to being the chosen king, even if Noctis had occasionally used his status to jokingly brag when they were kids.

“Now you can travel the world without pissing yourself half the time,” Gladio said, referencing Prompto’s dream to take photographs from all over Eos. Prompto must have lamented a thousand times about how there was no way he could do it by himself. That had partly been because the daemons and the fear of traveling at night. It had also been because Prompto hadn’t wanted to do it alone.

Not that he’d ever mentioned that second part. He hadn’t wanted anyone to feel guilty or obligated to come. The then soon-to-be-king and his retainers had had much more important things to do than wander the countryside with him.

“And leave you guys to find trouble by yourselves?” Prompto said. “No way.”

Gladio glanced at Noctis. “I think His Majesty is the one who causes the most trouble.”

“Hey!” His Majesty whined.

Prompto sighed dramatically. “I’m not surprised. Noct always was the worst of us.”

“I think you’re talking about yourself,” Noctis said.

Ignis reached out and found Noctis’ hand. He kissed the back of it. “Come now. Let’s stay on task.”

Right.

Noctis was king. Ignis was his right-hand man like Prompto always knew he would be. He kept Noctis on track and the whole political side of Insomnia running smoothly. There was surely more detail there, but Prompto had no doubt any logistical talk would just confuse him, and Noctis and Ignis said they could save that for another day.

The Amicitia family was still in charge of the King’s safety. Gladio was Noctis’ personal Shield, and while he was by the king’s side most of the day, he also did “Whatever Iggy asks of me.” Sometimes he and Iris assisted with safety procedures for the districts of Insomnia that were still being rebuilt, but he still spent most of his time in the Citadel. Iris went out and about more than he did.

Prompto wrinkled his nose. “Let me guess. You guys spend sixteen hours a day in meetings arguing with old people?”

“There is always work to be done,” Ignis said.

Gladio shrugged. “They’re not as old now that that most of them have been replaced.”

Prompto immediately felt bad. Obviously most of the old council members had lost their lives in the Niflheim invasion.

Gladio drawled, “Some of them _are_ still pretty old though.”

 _That_ was familiar territory. Prompto rolled his eyes.

“We’ll always have time for you,” Noctis said, even though that wasn’t what Prompto had meant when he asked how busy everyone had been. Prompto sputtered at the reassurance. Dimly, part of him was aware of how natural their group back-and-forth had been, even after so many years apart. It felt good.

That was it. That was the way Eos was, that was the way Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio were, and this was the way it would be between them if Prompto wanted to be with them again. Slow. Steady. Loving.

Nobody had blatantly stated that last part, but Prompto could feel it in the air. There wasn’t an inch of him that held any doubt.

 

 

 

 

In the end, it came down to this:

“So,” Noctis said. He sucked in a deep breath. “You coming to bed, Prom?”

It wasn’t yet time to sleep, but that wasn’t really what he was being asked.

Prompto licked his lips. The others were waiting for his answer, but surely at this point they had to know the only truthful answer was “ _Yes.”_

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Shouldn’t you at least take a guy to dinner first?”

Noctis and Gladio laughed while Ignis cracked a smile.

“Yes, it has grown late,” Ignis said, ever the timekeeper. “I believe it’s nearly time for dinner, correct?”

Gladio checked the clock. “A little early, but just about. Really wasted away an afternoon, didn’t we?”

“In a good way,” Prompto jumped in.

“Quite,” said Ignis.

They had been sitting for hours, and it felt good when they stood up and stretched their legs. Dinner sounded equally good. Since Prompto had only eaten toast that morning, he had grown rather ravenous. Technically speaking, it had been a decade since he’d last eaten a real dinner. He figured he could use that as an excuse later if he indulged himself a little more than usual.

Prompto wanted to touch all of them, to wrap himself around each of them and just breathe for a while, but with the table in the way, it was difficult to reach all of them at once. Apparently they had the same idea, though. Gladio reached him first, slipping an arm around Prompto’s shoulders as they stood, pulling him close. Prompto tripped over his own feet in his haste to return the gesture. His knee hit the table. He wrapped his arms around Glado’s torso as best he could, pressing his face into Gladio’s collarbone.

Gladio was warm and solid and everything Prompto craved. Prompto shuddered. He wanted to stay there forever.

“Hey,” Noctis said warmly. “You want to share him with the rest of us?”

A puff of laughter left Prompto’s lips.

“Says the King of Hogging Blankets,” Gladio said, but he released Prompto and made space for the others.

Prompto reluctantly stepped back. He wanted to continue to hug Gladio, especially since he’d been acting the coldest since Prompto’s return, but he wanted Noctis and Ignis as well.

Noctis stepped around the table, guiding Ignis safely around the furniture as he went. He wrapped his arms around Prompto’s neck. Noctis had a patch of stubble on his face that he hadn’t shaved off that morning, and it tickled Prompto’s skin. Prompto had never felt Noctis with facial hair before. Before, they had been too young to reliably grow any. This was different, this was new, but this was still _Noctis_. Prompto already loved it.

“Hey,” Noctis whispered into his hair. “It’s good to have you back.”

Prompto’s throat felt tight. He nodded. “It’s good to be back.”

Ignis was _right there_ , politely waiting for an opportunity to step in, but Prompto didn’t want to wait. He reached out with one arm and pulled Ignis close, trapping himself between the king and his advisor. Ignis practically melted into the hug, ducking his head and pressing his nose into Prompto’s neck. Prompto had his arms wrapped around both their necks, and it was nearly impossible to tell whose hand was where on his back. Noctis and Ignis both held him tight.

“You’re cold,” Ignis said, his lips brushing Prompto’s skin.

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed. Neither of them moved.

Prompto hadn’t particularly noticed, but Noctis had almost always had warm skin. Ignis ran cooler than most, but he was also wearing more layers than Prompto. He was willing to bet anyone would feel cold when pressed between the two of them. He hummed in answer.

“Now who’s hogging who?” Gladio said, his voice low. When Prompto glanced over, he saw Gladio staring at them with heat in his gaze. He wasn’t surprised when Gladio hugged him from behind.

They were good. Not as solid as they had been before, but Prompto thought they were something close. They had gotten the hard part out of the way, at least. Now they just had to make it through the everyday events until they got back to normal again. Or whatever passed as “normal” these days.

Then Prompto’s stomach rumbled loudly, ruining the moment.

“Nice one,” Noctis said.

Prompto nudged Noctis’ knee with his own. They were all close enough that Noctis may or may not have brushed it off as coincidence. “I’m hungry. Sue me.”

Gladio sighed.

“Let’s get something to eat, shall we?” Ignis said.

 

 

 

 

Dinner was good. Better than good, really, but Prompto was hesitant to claim anything was better than the meals Ignis had cooked while they had been traveling Eos, eating in RVs and over fires. The chefs in Insomnia might have had access to more spices and exotic foods than Ignis had, but there was something about eating outside after a really exhausting day with the loves of your life that couldn’t be replicated in a castle. The experience was part of it all.

Still, it was really, really good.

Prompto was pretty sure kings were supposed to eat in a fancy dining room or something, but Ignis called someone and said that “His Majesty would prefer to eat somewhere more privately tonight.” And then they walked next door to what looked like a conference room. Its design reminded him of the night he and the guys had first officially gotten together, all four of them.

Two servants delivered the food on covered platters, and one gave Prompto a look as they set the food out. He couldn’t blame her. Here was the King of Insomnia and his retainers requesting a private meal with some scrawny, blond nobody. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt while everyone else wore nice suits and finely pressed pants. He would have been pretty befuddled too.

“We’ll figure something out later,” Noctis said after he sent the girl away, having noticed the same look. Prompto assumed he was talking about how they’d explain his sudden appearance in the Citadel. It would look strange if some random guy suddenly started living there and hanging out with the King all the time. He wondered if it wasn’t better that he move out somehow.

And then Ignis and Gladio showed him the food that had been brought, and all thoughts of everything except dinner went right out the window.

 

 

 

 

“What if somebody gets suspicious?”

He felt ridiculous just asking, and he felt even sillier when Gladio knocked their shoulders together.

“Seriously?” Gladio said.

Prompto ducked his head. “It’s a serious question.”

“Prom,” Noctis said. “We’re the only ones who found you, and nobody even knows you’re alive. They wouldn’t know who you are. It’s fine.”

The fact nobody knew who he was felt like part of the problem, but then Ignis said, “His Majesty shares his bed with two men every night. I’m sure a third won’t hurt.”

Gladio snorted, and Noctis mumbled something Prompto couldn’t hear. Ignis had a point.

“Unless you have some other reason to protest?” Ignis asked.

Obviously not. Prompto flopped onto the center large mattress. It was ridiculously soft, and he wondered how Ignis or Gladio even slept on it. Sure, Prompto loved it, but he knew those two preferred stiffer beds. Maybe they had gotten soft with age.

He sat up as something occurred to him.

“How do you guys usually sleep?”

He remembered how they had slept when camping. Noctis had always been in the middle, both because he was usually the first to fall asleep and because everyone knew how much he liked the warmth. Ignis and Gladio had often boxed Noctis in. Prompto thought it was some kind of duty thing. A “keeping watch” sort of thing. Prompto had normally slept on the outside, usually next to Gladio. He got antsy at night and often couldn’t sleep. He rolled around and played with his phone too much. Ignis didn’t like the movement, but Gladio didn’t mind it. Or he was at least better at ignoring it.

There were some nights where Prompto had ended up sandwiched between two other bodies, either because he felt more relaxed that day or because someone else was feeling anxious. But not normally.

When they had stayed in motels, they had shared beds and switched partners depending on everyone’s plans the next morning. Prompto had often ended up bunking with Noctis because of their shared penchant for sleeping in.

But that had been then, and this wasn’t a motel or a tent. Routines could change. Prompto waited.

Noctis shrugged. “However we want.”

He crawled in next to Prompto, laying on his side. They were in the middle of the bed.

Prompto smiled softly. Noctis had acted like it didn’t matter, but some things never changed. Royalty was always the center of attention.

Ignis climbed in behind Noctis. He pressed himself against Noctis’ back, one arm under a pillow and the other laid across Noctis’ waist, just as he always had. At some point in the night Ignis would probably roll onto his back, but he always started off spooning Noctis.

Gladio settled in behind Prompto, and Prompto hoped he would fall asleep easily tonight. He didn’t feel very restless, but he could never tell what kind of night it was going to be until he actually tried to sleep. He still felt somewhat drained for that afternoon, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to get up a million times in the night to pee. Crawling over everyone was no fun. But he didn’t want to protest being in the middle either. The constant contact was something he desperately wanted. And if he was being honest and a little hopeful, he thought the other guys might have needed it too.

Prompto wasn’t surprised when Gladio laid his arm across his side, stretching until the bodyguard laid hands on Noctis as well. It wasn’t exactly a far reach. They were all pressed tightly against one another with barely any wiggle room to spare. Even with all four of them, there was extra space on either side of the mattress to stretch out, but nobody seemed to want the distance. Gladio’s knees hit the back of Prompto’s calves.

He had always felt small compared to the three of them, both literally and figuratively. He felt it now more than ever.

Somebody turned out the bedside lamp. Noctis’ breath puffed against Prompto’s face.

“Hey,” Noctis whispered.

Prompto felt Gladio’s lips on the back of his neck. “Hey.”

“You two sound like children,” Gladio said, though his voice had lost the gruffness it usually held in the daytime. He was practically on top of Prompto.

“They act like it too,” Ignis added.  

Noctis kissed the tip of Prompto’s nose. Ridiculously, Prompto felt himself blush. The room was dark, but Noctis caught the change in expression anyway.

“Seriously?” Noctis said, amused. He sounded a little like someone who had opened a present early.

He didn’t wait for a reply before he snaked his arm under Gladio’s and wrapped himself around Prompto. Prompto had the King in front of him and the Shield behind him. Ignis was right over Noctis’ shoulder, and Prompto knew himself well enough to know at some point in the night he was going to kick Noctis’ legs apart to bury his cold toes under Ignis’ legs.

They were all tangled up in one another. Everything was dark and warm, and while Prompto could have guessed whose hands were where if he really wanted to, he didn’t bother to focus. He liked being like this. Just being. Safe. Comfortable.

Noctis wriggled closer. He pressed his nose against Prompto’s. They were practically kissing, though there was a sliver of space between their mouths. Prompto felt the bed shift at the same time as Ignis did, and Gladio’s grip tightened.

“I love you,” Noctis whispered. He sounded breakable.

Prompto swallowed. “Yeah. Me too. All of you.”

In a way, he was almost afraid of falling asleep. Ridiculous as it was, part of him was sure he’d wake up to find even more time had passed. That Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio would be forty or fifty or _gone_ the next time he opened his eyes, and Prompto would still be stuck in the past.

He shoved those thoughts away and squeezed his eyes shut. Gladio and Noctis were holding him, and he could hear Ignis breathing. It was fine. Everything was fine.

 

 

 

 

He woke up sometime in the early hours of the morning to someone rolling off the bed. He heard low voices—Noctis and Ignis’—but since they didn’t sound urgent, he fell back asleep.

When Prompto woke up for a second time, there was sunlight coming in through the windows, and Gladio was fully dressed. Ignis and Noctis were gone.

He knew they couldn’t have spent the day in bed. It was too short notice. There were too many urgent things going on for all three of them to take the day off. He at least had Gladio. But Prompto would have been lying if he said he didn’t want all of them together.

 _“The day after tomorrow_ ,” Ignis had promised last night. _“We’ll spend the day together then.”_

Noctis had frowned and buried his face in Prompto’s neck. Ignis had squeezed his hand.

Tomorrow. They would be together tomorrow. First there was today. And today he at least had Gladio.

“So Sleepy Beauty finally awakes,” Gladio said. He was holding an apple, presumably one he had gotten from the bowl of fruit on the table. He wore a tank-top and dark jeans. Definitely more casually dressed than he had been the past few days.

Prompto groaned. His eyelids were still heavy. He squinted at the figure standing next to the bed.

“You can’t sleep the day away,” Gladio said, and Prompto was reminded how much of an early riser Gladio was. “Everyone else is working. The least we can do is see if you still know how to defend yourself.”

“You know, to me, I was fighting, like, two days ago,” Prompto mumbled into his pillow. He had no idea if he was even making sense. His brain was still foggy with the need for sleep.

“And now you get to fight me today,” Gladio said.

Prompto closed his eyes. He felt Gladio lay a hand on his shoulder, and he prepared himself to be rudely shaken awake. But Gladio paused, and then the same hand left Prompto’s shoulder to brush some of his hair away from his forehead instead.

It was unusual enough that Prompto cracked open an eye. Gladio looked down at him.

“If you get up now, I promise only to kick your ass half as much as I normally would,” Gladio said.

It was a deal too good to pass up. Prompto braced himself and then rolled out of bed. Literally. He hit the floor and laid there for a moment.

“Ouch.”

Somewhere above him, Gladio snorted. “Nice one.”

 

 

 

 

As surreal as the past day or so had been, Prompto thought they were approaching normal. That is, if “normal” was sweating more than he ever had in his life. He thought the only time he’d felt worse had been when he’d helped push the Regalia to Hammerhead in the summer heat.

He was drenched and panting, but Gladio practically hadn’t even broken a sweat. Prompto liked to think his own training wasn't too terrible, but he’d been nowhere near Gladio’s level ten years ago, and the vast chasm between their skill levels had only deepened with time.

He had no idea why Gladio had wanted to train in the first place. To fall into something almost like a routine, maybe.

When Gladio blessedly called for a break, Prompto all but collapsed against the stone wall. Gladio sank down next to him and gazed across the empty training field. A beat passed as Prompto caught his breath.

"The other day," Gladio said conversationally, after Prompto had cooled off slightly. "I got pretty ticked off at myself.”

Prompto swiped his damp bangs away from his forehead. “Why?”

“I forgot how your laugh sounded.”

Prompto stared.

"It's stupid," Gladio continued, scowling at himself. "I couldn't imagine forgetting anything about Iggy or Noct. But I forgot your laugh.” He paused. Without looking at Prompto, he said, “It pissed me off."

"But you see them _every_ _day_ ," Prompto protested, somehow overcoming the lump in his throat. "Of course you wouldn't forget them. You haven’t seen me in _years_. Honestly, if you remembered something as silly as my voice for that long, I'd say that's pretty impressive!"  
  
He tried to diffuse the tension with a smile, but that just made it worse. Gladio narrowed his eyes at him.  
  
"You're telling me that if you forgot something essential about me or Iggy or Noct, that it wouldn't be a big deal?"  
  
"No. I mean. Yes. I mean—how essential is my laugh?" Out of all the things to worry about, something as dumb as that didn’t deserve any attention.

Gladio's voice left no room for argument. "It's essential."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. They were sitting close enough that they could have leaned on each other, but neither moved. Prompto swallowed. He wished there some grass underfoot that he could pull at, but there was just stone.  
  
"Well," he said. "I'm here now. I'll remind you."  
  
Gladio gave him a sidelong glance. His face was impassive. "You will, huh?"  
  
"Yeah." Prompto shrugged and looked away. "Of course, it'd be way easier if you had developed a sense of humor—"  
  
"You—"  
  
Gladio's arm shot out, but Prompto threw himself out of the way just in time. Not that his success lasted long. For a big guy, Gladio was _fast_ , and he was on top of Prompto before the blond even had a chance to stand. Gladio’s muscled torso engulfed Prompto's skinny frame. There was no chance of escape.  
  
"I give! I give, I give!" Prompto slapped his palm on the ground, squealing with laughter as Gladio's fingers dug into his sides. "Uncle! Uncle!"  
  
Gladio relented. Prompto sucked in the much needed air, a few residual giggles still escaping his mouth. He rubbed his sides to get rid of the feeling of phantom fingers on his skin. He rolled onto his back and looked up at Gladio, who sat back on his knees, gazing down at Prompto.  
  
"There," Prompto said, triumphant. "Reminder given."  
  
Gladio considered this. He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of Prompto's head, boxing him in.  "You might have to keep reminding me."  
  
Some of his hair had fallen out of his ponytail. It tickled Prompto's face. There was a playfulness in Gladio's eyes that had been missing the past few days, despite the long conversation they’d had when Prompto had last night. He was glad to see its return.

Gladio looked different. They all had. But he was still the same on the inside as he had been ten years ago.  
  
"Sure,” Prompto agreed.  
  
Of course he would. For as long as he lived.

 

 

 

 

"You and Gladio seem to be having fun," Noctis said as Prompto stepped out of the training grounds and into the corridor.  
  
Prompto jumped. He hadn't seen Noct approach. The hallway was empty save for the two of them, but he had been too caught up in his own head to notice he wasn’t alone. Gladio had said something about lunch and had wandered off in another direction. Prompto figured he would just meander around until he found his way back to Noctis’ room or found something remotely interesting. Whichever came first.

"Don't you have kingly duties to be doing?" Prompto asked. He added, "Your _Majesty_."  
  
Noct made a face at the address. Prompto laughed. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d called Noctis by his title. He’d just wanted to see how Noctis would react now that he was King.  
  
"Always," Noctis said, ignoring his laughter. "But sometimes I leave Ignis to fend off the wolves so I can catch my breath."

"It must be so terrible, ruling over an entire kingdom," Prompto teased. "How horrible."  
  
Noctis grimaced. "It's not as luxurious as it appears, actually."  
  
Prompto remembered the toll ruling had taken on King Regis. Granted, a lot of that had probably been from using the Crystal’s power to keep a literal forcefield around Insomnia at all time, but the other parts couldn’t have been easy either. "Eh, probably not. I don't envy you."  
  
Noctis tilted his head. “Aren't you even curious to know how I'm doing as king?"  
  
"I don't need to," Prompto said, a little surprised Noctis was even asking. "You're the best king Lucis has ever had or ever will."  
  
Sure, the Crystal had said so when Noctis was a kid or whatever, but Prompto didn't need some prophecy to know _that_.  
  
But Noctis was staring at him with a funny look on his face, so Prompto figured he'd said something weird. He scratched the back of his neck.  
  
"Anyway, all that politics stuff would just go over my head," he said. "I'm not really cut out for the court like you or Ignis."  
  
"Yeah, well," Noctis said after a pause. "Hopefully I won't have to deal with it for much longer either."  
  
Prompto blinked. "What?"  
  
"The reign of kings and queens of Lucis is coming to an end," Noctis said. "Ignis and some others are helping me design a council system to rule the kingdom instead. Not just advisors to the king, but a real council making the laws. No single king or queen making all the decisions anymore. No more monarchy. I'll be stepping down."  
  
Prompto's jaw dropped.  
  
"Can you just _do_ that?" he asked, incredulous.  
  
Noctis shrugged, easy going, which meant he was totally taking pride in catching Prompto off guard.  
  
"Luna did," he said. "She's a full time Oracle now, traveling the world. She still gets the final say in important decisions, but for the most part she's uninvolved. Hopefully in a few years I can do the same." He looked out the window, onto to the empty training grounds. "Ignis still wants me to be on the council once it's created, but I’m not sure."

Noctis shifted his weight, placing his hand on his hip, and for a split second Prompto could see the image of a younger Noctis overlaid with the King before him.

Noctis said, "Besides, it's not like I'm having any kids anyway. One way or another, the royal bloodline is coming to an end. Might as well do it right."

The idea of abolishing the line of royals for good made Prompto's head spin. A hundred and fourteen kings in the making, and here they were, dismantling it all. It was mind boggling.

 _Ignis wants me on the council,_ Noctis had said.  
  
"What about what _you_ want?" Prompto asked. He leaned against the cool wall. His sweat from training with Gladio had mostly dried, but he was sure he didn’t smell great. “If you’re not on the council, I mean.”

Noctis turned his head. There was something about the way he looked at Prompto that seemed as if he was surprised Prompto was really standing there before him. Prompto knew the feeling.

"I'm still working on that,” Noctis said.  
  
Prompto hummed. After another moment, Noctis looked away and said, "You know, some of the best days I ever had were with the three of you, traveling Eos. There were a lot of places we didn't get to see."  
  
There had been rough days in there too, but it was nice to know Noctis mostly remembered the good times.  
  
Prompto chuckled. "Yeah, we were kind of on a tight schedule."  
  
"Maybe we could do that again," Noctis said lightly. "Someday."  
  
Prompto's heart skipped a beat.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "Someday." That sounded good.

Noctis hooked his pinky finger around Prompto’s. Prompto breathed in.  
  
They stayed there in companionable silence until Ignis finally appeared to chew Noct out for being late. Noctis relented, apologizing, but he sent exaggerated faces of disgust Prompto’s way even as he left to deal with the dignitaries, or whoever it was that Kings had to deal with.

Ignis pretended not to notice, but Prompto was pretty sure the laughter gave him away. Ignis told Noctis not to drag his feet.

 

 

 

 

Noctis left to go do royal stuff, but Ignis lagged behind. Prompto hesitated.  
  
"Don't you have to go with him?" he asked when it became clear Ignis wasn’t going to follow. Ignis leaned against the wall, mimicking Prompto’s earlier pose. He looked much more dignified than Prompto probably had.  
  
"Something odd caught my ear this morning," Ignis said nonchalantly.

That always meant Ignis had heard something juicy. “Yeah?”

"It seems someone fell into the lake at Royal Park recently. Except a few eye witnesses swear that the person did not fall _into_ the lake. The ice had been unbroken beforehand. This individual merely crawled out of it."  
  
"Huh," Prompto said.  
  
"Indeed," said Ignis. "The victim—reportedly a man around twenty years of age—was taken to the hospital, but he seems to have disappeared."  
  
“Weird.”  
  
"Quite.”  
  
They faced each other. Prompto swore he saw the corner of Ignis' lips twitch.  
  
Before Prompto could call him out on it, Ignis continued, "I suppose this explains where you came from."  
  
Prompto made a face at that. "Not really?"  
  
"No?" Ignis raised an eyebrow. "Did you know Gentiana is actually the goddess Shiva in disguise?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you not recall?" Ignis asked, folding his hands over the top of his cane. "During our battle with Ifrit, she transformed before our eyes."

Prompto was sure his eyes were going to pop out of his head. "Uh, _no_. I wish I remembered that!”

He wracked his brain for memories of that fight and came up with a lot of fire and smoke. No Gentiana. He remembered Noctis mentioning Shiva saving him on the train, but the rest came up blank. “I guess I wasn't paying attention then."

He remembered the sudden surge of ice and blue pixie women that had frozen Ifrit solid, but not Gentiana herself. He must have missed her actual transformation, too busy fighting to notice.  
  
"Yes, you have made a habit that," Ignis said. Prompto smiled sheepishly in response. "In any case, Shiva is the goddess of ice, among other things. I suppose if you were to be birthed anywhere, a frozen lake is just a good a place as any."  
  
Prompto shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. "Do you have to say it like that? Gross."

Ignis smiled. "I apologize."

“Can Shiva even do that though?” Prompto asked, dancing around using the word ‘dead’ or anything close to it. He didn’t want to bring up bad memories. Or think about it too hard. “Bring people back, I mean.”

She was an Astral, of course, but even they had to have _some_ limits. Reincarnation may have been a thing? It was a concept, at the very least. But he’d never heard of somebody straight up coming back to life. Unless they were a zombie. He didn’t _feel_ like a zombie. Then again, he didn’t know what zombies were supposed to feel like.

“Perhaps,” Ignis said. “We do not know the exact limits of the Astral’s powers, but Shiva has always had a soft spot of humankind. This may be a gift she does not give out lightly.”

But to do something like that for _him?_ A nobody? Prompto couldn’t wrap his head around it.

When he didn’t respond immediately, Ignis cleared his throat. Prompto jolted back to reality.

“I did not mean to bring to upset you,” Ignis began.

Prompto cut him off with, “Can we go tomorrow?”

Ignis paused, and if not for the fact he had no use for it, Prompto imagined he would be blinking rapidly under his sunglasses.

“Excuse me?”

“To the park,” Prompto clarified. “The one I appeared in.” He scratched at some dry skin on his thumb. “We might find something there to explain why I’m here, right?”

It was where he had emerged, after all. Apparently.

There was a pause before Ignis said, “Yes, quite. Good thinking.”

There was something stiff about the way he held suddenly held himself, and Prompto hesitantly reached out to hook his pinky around Ignis’ ring finger. Ignis relaxed as their hands touched.

“Is that okay?” Prompto asked. He wouldn’t go if it would be too weird. But there may have been something important there, and he wanted to find out.

“Of course,” Ignis assured him. “It’s good to explore all our options. We wouldn’t want to be caught off-guard, after all.”

Tomorrow was supposed to be the day Ignis, Noctis, and Gladio all avoided work and Prompto got to know them all again. It was supposed to be a “them” day. He didn’t think the park was a terrible idea though. It could be romantic, maybe. Walks in the park were _definitely_ romantic. It was the stuff romantic comedies were made of.

And it was winter now. If it snowed, they could have a snowball fight. They could go ice skating if the lake was still frozen. Somebody would no doubt recognize Noctis, but maybe they would get lucky and no one would bother them anyway.

Even if he didn’t know why, Prompto had been given a gift. He didn’t want to take it for granted. He just didn’t want to live in the dark either.

“There you are,” said a voice down the hall.

Prompto turned. Gladio stood with his hand resting on the doorway.

“I thought I told you to stay put,” Gladio said, glancing between the two of them like he knew something was up. “I got us some lunch. Iggy, you want some?”

“Thank you, but no,” Ignis said. “I’m afraid I’ve tarried here long enough. I must get back. I’ll be sure to dine with His Majesty later.”

Gladio stepped aside. He raised an eyebrow as Ignis passed, but he quickly turned his attention to Prompto once again. “You hungry?”

Prompto suddenly realized how thirsty he was. He was still dehydrated from training. “Starving! What’s for lunch?”

 

 

 

 

“It’s a good idea,” Ignis said.

Nobody immediately spoke. Prompto nervously fixed his hair. He was beginning to think this was a bad idea after all.

“We can stay here if you want,” he offered. “I just thought…”

Noctis untensed. Like he had never stiffened in the first place. “No, no, it’s a good idea. I had just assumed we’d stay here. But it’s good to get out. We can go.”

Prompto didn’t feel very reassured. He glanced over to Gladio. “Big guy?”

Gladio shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

Slowly, when it didn’t look like anything terrible was going to happen, Prompto relaxed. He didn’t know why he felt so anxious. He guessed he was just finally getting back into the groove of things. Worrying over nothing was his routine, after all.  

It was late. They had eaten dinner in pairs tonight, and Noctis and Ignis had only gotten back moments ago. They both looked exhausted. Prompto allowed Noctis to guide him towards the bed. Noctis kissed his cheek, and part of Prompto wanted more, but they both left it at that. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gladio staring. The big guy helped Ignis change into more comfortable clothes.

Part of Prompto wanted to sleep on the outside of their group tonight, but he allowed himself to be cajoled into the middle again. He didn’t _dislike_ sleeping in the middle, at least. He’d sleep on the rim another night.

For the second night in a row, Noctis transformed into an octopus, practically wrapping himself around Prompto as they got settled in bed. It was very much like how Noctis slept on cold nights years ago, albeit with a slightly tighter grip and broader everything. Gladio was at Prompto’s back again, and Ignis was at Noctis’. It was nice. Prompto fell asleep fairly quickly.

The next morning, he was dressed and practically vibrating with the need to leave when there was a knock on the door. Prompto knew what was up before the person on the other side of the door opened their mouth.

“Your Majesty?” Someone said, their nervous voice slightly muffled by the wood. “I’m very sorry to bother you, Your Majesty, but something has come up.”

Noctis answered the door in all his sleepy splendor. He was at least wearing pants. There was a quiet back and forth between the King and the nameless person on the other side of the door. Ignis joined them. Eventually, so did Gladio, and if the messenger was surprised to find all three men crowding the doorway, they didn’t show it. Prompto did his best to keep out of the way.

He watched their expressions drop into scowls one-by-one, and when Gladio turned towards Prompto, he wasn’t surprised to hear what came next.

“Wait here,” Gladio said. “We’ll be right back.”

Prompto nodded. At least they had all gotten dressed before they’d been called away.

Waiting turned into an hour, which turned into nearly two hours, which turned into the thought, _Maybe they can just meet me there._

Technically, Prompto should have waited. They were supposed to go as a group, and half of the point of today was to spend it _together_. But he was anxious to figure out what the hell had happened to him, and he had no idea how long everyone would be gone, if they returned by afternoon at all. He didn’t want to waste the day doing _nothing_. The park wasn’t a secret. He was sure the guys could catch up pretty fast.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to get back into the Citadel after he left, but he was sure Ignis or Noct or Gladio could figure something out. Special privileges, after all.

He went to the door.

Prompto poked his head out. When nobody immediately arrested him for standing in the King’s chambers, his courage grew. He closed the door behind him and, after double checking that it locked automatically, he walked out.

Nobody stopped him as he left the Citadel, which seemed like a miracle in itself. The halls were practically empty, and nobody even batted an eye as he left the main gates. Probably because no criminal would be so bold as to stroll right through the front door. Nobody had seen him enter, but they probably thought everything was in order if he was leaving. It was easy. Prompto almost felt guilty, though he told himself he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

It was a twenty-minute walk from the Citadel to the park. It was the closest public park to the Citadel, nestled right in the upper-class district of Insomnia, but that didn’t make it _close._ Prompto vaguely remembered the way, but he had to turn himself around a few times to avoid the streets that were blocked off with ropes and rubble. He had missed it the night he’d walked around with Gentiana, but Noctis had been right. Some of Insomnia really was still off-limits with damage.

Honestly, the trip probably would have gone a lot smoother if he still had his glasses. With all the excitement that had been going on for the past few days, he’d been mostly ignoring the low-grade headache he had from not wearing his contacts or any prescription lenses. He had figured he could just ask for a trip to the optometrist when things settled down.

Now, though, he was realizing it was a little difficult to read the street signs when he wasn’t directly on top of them. Making his way around town had seemed so much easier when he was following Gentiana.

Probably because he’d had a guide and the streets were more familiar then. He hadn’t spent much time in the upper class distracts of Insomnia even before it had been blown to bits.

Prompto rubbed at his sore eyes and kept walking. The park shouldn’t have been much farther.

There was no snow or ice on the ground, but the wind was cool and the clouds hung in a thick, gray blanket overhead. The sun was nowhere to be found. Prompto had grabbed one of Ignis’ coats before he’d left. He’d chosen one of Ignis’ coats simply because Noctis’ were too flashy and Gladio’s were way too big. Ignis’ coat was still a little large on him, but it drew less attention than any of the others. Most importantly, it kept him toasty. He figured they couldn’t have been that far into winter if simple jeans and a jacket kept him warm. He made a mental note to check the date later.

Even with all the backtracking, it wasn’t long before he found the park.

It was mid-morning, but the park was practically deserted. Prompto figured the cool air must have kept everyone else at home. He thought he spotted the blurry visage of a couple walking their dog in the distance, but without his glasses it was hard to tell for sure. At least he wasn’t entirely alone. After spending the past few days in someone’s constant company, the sudden silence felt a little lonely.

Again, he felt a stab of guilt for skipping out on the guys like he had, but Prompto told himself a little curiosity had never hurt anybody.

Anyway, it wasn’t a crime to poke around. The guys knew where he was if they wanted him.

He wandered off the pedestrian path and closer to the lake. It was definitely winter and there were hints of ice teasing the strip of land where the lake lapped at the shoreline, but the water was far from frozen. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could fall through the ice here. There was no ice to speak of. It had to have all melted over the past day or so. 

Funny, how nature worked like that sometimes.

Prompto idled at the edge of the lake. He didn’t know what he had expected to find here. A giant sign with the words _EXPLANATION HERE_ painted in big, bold letters would have been nice. He should have known that was too much to ask for. He wondered how long it was appropriate to loiter.

Until he got hungry, he figured. It wouldn’t take long. He had pretty much skipped out on breakfast in his haste to leave.

An extremely icy breeze, colder than the other gusts of air he’d felt that day, blew by. Prompto hugged himself, shivering. A black blur caught the corner of his vision. He turned.

And there was Gentiana, looking as if she had always been there and it was Prompto’s fault for not noticing sooner.

He yelped and stumbled back. If Prompto didn’t know better, he would have thought Gentiana had actually smiled in response. But he wasn’t sure Astrals did that sort of thing. He remembered Leviathan’s fury all too well. Gentiana’s face, if it ever changed, went back to composed and neutral instantly.

“Be at peace,” Gentiana said. She had always had the kind of voice that made Prompto want to shut up and listen, but he was especially aware of it now. “There are no threats here.”

Prompto swallowed. After Gentiana had disappeared that first night, he hadn’t expected to see her again. In a way, seeing her now felt somehow both fortuitous and extremely unlucky.

“What did you do?” he asked, a bit of courage pushing through his nerves. “How did I come back? Why me?”

Gentiana remained silent. Expectant, possibly.

Maybe Prompto was asking the wrong questions. He tried again.

“What happened to me?” he asked, hoping desperately for an answer.

This time he got one.

“The wind carries the ash. It flies away. Water freezes. Falls.” Gentiana held out her hand as if expecting a drop of rain. Prompto felt nothing. “All eventually returns to the earth.”

“Ok _ay_ ,” Prompto said slowly, drawing out the “ay.” He assumed she was talking about weather cycles. At least, he hoped she was, or else he had no idea what she meant. “I don’t… Sorry, I’ve had a rough couple of days, and it’d just be really great if I knew _why_.”

Why, why, why. That was all it really came down to. Prompto needed to know.

This question, at least, seemed to please Gentiana. To please Shiva.

He was a lot more comfortable thinking of her as Gentiana. A messenger instead of just _holy-shit-an-Astral._

“It was not the sacrifice that was necessary, but the willingness to sacrifice. To give it all away.” Gentiana turned her head towards the lake. “The Chosen King was willing.”

It took a moment for Prompto to understand what she was saying. Gentiana was referring to Noctis, to the day he had ascended the throne and ended the eternal night.

So whatever Noctis had done to bring back the dawn, it had been less about the fact he’d done it and more about his willingness to do it. Prompto suddenly realized he hadn’t asked how ascending to the throne had gone in the end. With all that had happened over the past few days and the fact the ascension had clearly worked, it hadn’t seemed that important.

But that seemed unrelated to the problem at hand.

“Then why am _I_ here?” Prompto asked. That was the big question.

“He begged.”

Prompto was startled. He felt his jaw drop. “What?”

“Not with words,” Gentiana said. “But with his heart. The King of Light reached out. We listened.”

Noct. Noctis.

Noctis had begged.

For him.

“The King was willing to sacrifice. The King remained steadfast.” Gentiana didn’t open her eyes, but it felt like she was staring at him. “Here we are.”

Prompto shook his head.

 _Okay_ , he told himself. _Work it out_. Noctis had been willing to sacrifice himself. He ascended the throne. Dawn had risen.

And then Noctis had asked the gods for a favor?

They would have listened, maybe, because he was the True King, because he was friends with Lady Lunafreya. The Astrals—Gentiana—might have listened if Noctis had something to say.

And then they had apparently granted his request. To literally raise Prompto from the dead.

He was going to set that one aside for later. 

“But if Noct really asked…” Begged, literally, according to Gentiana, which felt weird in itself. “Why did it take so long?”

Gentiana tilted her head. The wind blew by, but not a single hair on her head was ruffled. “A promise was made. Should the King remain steadfast in his request and lead the world into prosperity, his request would be granted.”

Something wet hit Prompto’s cheek. It had begun to snow.

Gentiana smiled softly. “A promise was fulfilled.”

It was a lot to take in at once. Prompto’s mind raced.

“Did anyone know about this? Did Noct?”

Gentiana paused like this was a difficult question to parse. Prompto waited. He was sure from the snow that the temperature had dropped, but he didn’t particularly feel it.

Finally, Gentiana said, “The subconscious of humans is powerful. Dreams carry weight.”

Prompto assumed that was a no.

“Noct really…” Prompto licked at his chapped lips. “He really asked for this?”

“He asked,” Gentiana said. “Though not with words. We listened.”

“We” as in “the Astrals” or “we” as in some kind of royal “we”? Or something else?

Prompto had the very sudden realization that there was something about being in the presence of an Astral, especially now that Prompto _knew_ she was an Astral, that was deathly uncomfortable.

He sniffled. Something inside him broke, and he felt a warm wetness trickle from his nose. He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, but the flow didn’t slow. Stupid winter nosebleeds.

 A bit of frustration joined the ball of distress that sat heavy in his stomach. It felt like there were a thousand questions he still wanted to ask, but he couldn’t form them in his mind. “I still don’t understand—”

_“Prompto!”_

Startled, Prompto turned. It would have been impossible not to recognize Noctis sprinting, panicked, across the field. Glasses or not, Prompto would have recognized him anywhere, even if the finer details were lost in the blur. When Prompto glanced away, he was disappointed but unsurprised to find Gentiana gone. He turned back and found Noctis much closer than before.

“Noct—”

Noctis barreled into him. Prompto stumbled back a few steps from the force and caught himself on Noctis’ coat.

For a moment his face was buried in Noctis’ shoulder, and then suddenly Noctis was holding him at arms’ length, clutching his shoulders and scanning Prompto’s face for… something. His gaze lingered on the blood smeared under Prompto’s nose. The King’s skin was pale. Noctis’ face was caught between something strained and wild.

Prompto’s heart beat frantically in his chest. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure why Noctis was freaking out, but seeing Noctis so alarmed freaked him out just from proximity.

“I kept shouting your name,” Noctis said. His voice teetered the edge of wavering. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Dumbstruck, Prompto shook his head.

Noctis swiped the blood away from under Prompto’s nose with his thumb. Prompto grimaced and pulled away.

“Aw, gross, dude. Don’t—“

“You—” Noctis’ voice was low. His words got caught in his throat.

Prompto shut up. He was hyperaware of Noctis’ hands on his skin.

Noctis swallowed. He sucked in a shuddering breath. “You.”

“Me,” Prompto repeated. An anxious beat passed between them as he awkwardly waited for something more.

When nothing happened, he slowly raised his hand and encircled his fingers loosely around Noctis’ wrist. “Noct? You okay, buddy?”

No, he obviously wasn’t. But Prompto was desperate for anything that didn’t involve just standing there in silence.

Noctis looked at him. It was beginning to dawn on Prompto that going off alone had not been the best idea after all. He had considered that it was a bad idea, but _knowing_ was something different entirely. But he didn’t know what had happened to deserve _this_ kind of reaction. Noctis’ silence only worried him more.

Prompto’s tongue brushed his lower lip. He tried again.

“Where’s Ignis?” he asked. Ignis, who would have told Prompto not to have run off in the first place, but who _definitely_ would have told Noctis to stay put. “Or Gladio?” Who would definitely be giving them an earful when they got back, if Noctis’ behavior was an indicator of what was to come.

At least with the four of them together he would have gotten more answers. Probably.

“They’re…” For a moment Prompto didn’t think Noctis was going to finish his sentence, but then Noctis sighed. “They’re waiting for us. Come on.”

“Uh.” There wasn’t much he could say to that. “Okay.”

He didn’t miss the looks the couple that had been walking their dog gave them, whispering to each other as Noctis practically dragged Prompto away from the lake. As the _King of Insomnia_ dragged a nobody away. Prompto really hoped things didn’t get complicated because of this.

Assuming they weren’t already complicated.

He was pretty sure it was complicated.

He stole a glance at Noctis’ face. Still pale but now more distant, like he was trying to distract himself. He wasn’t looking at Prompto, but Noctis’ arm was slung around Prompto’s chest, pulling him close. His grip was tight.

Prompto didn’t try to resist.

 

 

 

 

 _Okay_ , he admitted to himself. He may have been wrong.

Maybe they hadn’t gotten through the hard part after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now you've probably picked up on nosebleeds being a recurring theme here. Boy, it sure sucks when you have chronic winter nosebleeds and it's winter now and when you died you also had a nosebleed then and all your SO's witnessed it and it's associated with your death and you only literally just returned from the dead for reasons no one can explain and it's stressful. It sucks.
> 
> Also tfw you're the king and your zombie BF disappears and they have a nosebleed like they did right when they died and you were helpless to do anything but watch and here you are mentally reliving that moment again. You know? That feel.
> 
> The "Communication" tag wasn't a lie because they did communicate, but they need to do it some more. Also they need some time to process things because wow, everything is happening so fast and nobody has had any time to themselves. 
> 
> I put Ignis in the spotlight a little last time, so I hope I evened that out somewhat now. I wanna give all the boys a time to shine.
> 
> The next chapter is a super short one meant to give some minor insight into what Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio are thinking during different parts of this chapter.
> 
> My [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/) Feel free to comment or ask me anything over there!


	2. flipside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief view of what everyone else is thinking during different points of the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out anything you think I should fix.

Prompto was asleep.

Prompto was asleep. He was asleep.

He was sleeping.

Not dead.

Not dead.

Noctis cradled Prompto’s face in his hands. Gods, he hadn’t aged a day. Noctis felt ancient. Prompto’s face was smooth. His hair still stuck up like he’d poured a mountain of gel in it. Every freckle was exactly where Noctis remembered it to be. Prompto slept with parted lips, and every breath that left them was a miracle. Noctis wished Ignis could see him in all his glory.

Prompto was asleep, and Noctis couldn’t stop shaking.

It had been a day. A full day since Prompto’s return, and Noctis could barely contain himself. Maybe Ignis was right, maybe he’d been too presumptuous at the start, but he couldn’t help it. It felt like someone had stabbed him the night he saw Prompto in the throne room, and the knife had twisted when Prompto admitted that he thought they had forgotten him. Noctis had wanted to throw him down and let everything pour out of him right then and there. But he was more grounded with Gladio and Ignis by his side, and he was happy with how they had gotten through the afternoon.

Still, he couldn’t stop staring during dinner. Prompto laughing, Prompto gesturing, Prompto wrinkling his nose. He’d been gone ten years, and Noctis couldn’t get enough. The way Gladio protectively curled around him told Noctis he felt the same.

“Noctis,” Ignis said quietly. “Breathe.”

Noctis’ chest ached. “I am.”

He was breathing. He was breathing. Prompto was breathing.

Ignis rubbed circles on Noctis’ bare bicep with his thumb. Noctis tried to match his rhythm.

An eternity passed before Noctis said, “He’s really here.”

He was supposed to wake up early tomorrow. He couldn’t have cared less.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “He is.”

The first night—last night, the night Prompto had first returned—had been agony. Noctis had dug his fingers into the sheets to keep himself from sprinting back down the hall and checking on him every few minutes. He had been convinced Prompto was going to disappear if he took his eyes off him too long.

Even now, Noctis still wasn’t completely sure Prompto wouldn’t vanish between one breath and the next. It was difficult to focus on anything else.

“Noct,” Ignis said. “You need to go to sleep.”

How much time had passed already? Noctis eyes burned. He couldn’t remember the last time he blinked. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. They were sore, but Prompto was still there.

“Noct,” Ignis repeated.

Noctis blinked again. “What if…”

He couldn’t bring himself to voice his fears out loud. That would make them too real. Ignis seemed to understand anyway.

“He won’t,” Ignis said, his voice full of much more conviction than Noctis felt. “He’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“But—“

“Don’t you trust us?” Gladio asked.

The answer was so obviously _“Yes, absolutely_ ” that Noctis didn’t bother to answer. He sighed through his nose instead.

Gladio laid his hand over Ignis’. Ignis was still touching Noctis. They were all touching him, and he was touching Prompto. Who was still there, despite everything screaming that he shouldn’t have been.

“Then trust us now,” Gladio said. “We’ll watch over him. Go to sleep.”

Sleep was the last thing he wanted. Which was nearly comical considering how much he loved sleeping any other day.

“Go to sleep,” Gladio said again. He lightly pinched Noctis. The world became slightly more in-focus.

Noctis breathed in. Breathed out. Prompto did the same.

“Okay,” he said.

Even so, it felt like hours before he finally passed out.

In the morning, Noctis opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Prompto drooling on his pillow. His bangs were plastered to his forehead with oil and sweat, and Noctis was sure he looked much the same.

Noctis’ heart fluttered in his chest. He breathed in.

 

 

 

 

Logically, Gladio knew it would happen. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how memory worked, knew how the passage of time rubbed away at its edges. He knew. He had known it would happen, someday.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

It didn’t sneak up on him, slow and steady. The realization hit Gladio all at once, like a bucket of ice water dumped on his head.

Ignis looked good at thirty-two. Handsome. Gladio had told him as much. Ignis had responded with something witty and charming, something that had made Gladio chuckle, and Gladio thought, _Prompto would have liked that_. Prompto would have laughed.

So then he imagined what Prompto would have said in response, how he would have laughed as he—

And suddenly Gladio couldn’t remember.

He couldn’t remember Prompto’s laugh.

He remembered parts. The way Prompto sort of wheezed sometimes, like he had lost all the air in his lungs. The way his laughter bust out of him rather than originating low in his chest like Ignis’s laughter or Gladio’s own did. He remembered all those things.

But he couldn’t recreate Prompto’s laugh in his head. He couldn’t hear it anymore.

Gladio liked to think he’d become steadier over the years. He had been a bit of a hothead in his twenties, letting his anger get the best of him, and sometimes he still fell into those same old grooves. But he wasn’t as bad as he used to be. He’d gotten stronger, steadier. Noctis and Ignis relied on him. Gladio prided himself on standing tall all these years, only rarely faltering.

But memory was fallible, and now his was failing.

Noctis caught him shifting through pictures the next day, lingering on the ones that had Prompto as their focus. There weren’t as many as he would have liked. Prompto had a penchant for taking laughable selfies, his smile stretched out before a sunset or a mountain range or a Garula getting ready to charge. It seemed impossible, how rarely Prompto had gotten himself hurt while searching for a perfect picture. Gladio remembered chewing him out for it all the time anyway.

 _Distractions can get you killed_ , he’d said. Now he wished he’d let Prompto indulge himself more. There were so few close-ups of Prompto compared to the plethora of photos of Ignis at the stove or Noctis mid-warp or himself charging into battle. It was almost unbelievable how few Prompto had taken of himself.

The King hadn’t said anything when he’d walked in. He had simply sat hunched over in the chair next to Gladio and silently stared at the photographs Gladio flipped through. They didn’t speak until Ignis came in looking for them.

Two years they’d had Prompto. Gladio had met him when Noctis was in high school, just like everyone else had, but they’d only had two years really _together._ Gods. Two years, and they’d lost him like _that_. It felt like nothing.

Gladio stared at the photos and tested his imagination. He had already lost Prompto’s laugh. What else had he lost? Could he still recreate the curve of his jaw, the way he held himself when he was antsy? Had Prompto’s hair lain against his forehead when it was wet or had he pushed it out of his face? Gladio was almost certain it laid flat, impossible to move out of Prompto’s eyes when it was soaked through, but now he couldn’t trust himself. Was that really how Prompto’s voice had sounded, or was Gladio an octave off? It had been so long. He didn’t think they had any videos he could check. Regret sat in his chest like an anvil.

Both Noctis and Ignis had taken him aside that evening and kissed him, slow and sweet. Gladio had burned with frustration.

And now.

Now.

Now Prompto was laughing under him, sweaty and squirming and _alive_. He was sunny and solid under Gladio’s hands, and Gladio wanted nothing more than to lean down and kiss him. He didn’t because they weren’t there yet, because something about the first kiss felt significant and this wasn’t the time. But it was easy to get lost in the bright crystal of Prompto’s eyes, in the hitch in his breath as Gladio’s fingers skirted his sides.

When Prompto stopped laughing, Gladio said, “You might have to keep reminding me,” which meant _Don’t ever fucking leave again._ He remembered the hell that had been those first few weeks after Prompto left. He didn’t think they could do that a second time.

When Prompto said “Sure,” Gladio swore he’d make certain that promise stayed true. 

 

 

 

 

Ignis did not mourn the loss of his sight.

That was not to say he did not wish he could see again, that he did not want to see the fine men Noctis and Gladio had grown up into. That wasn’t to say he didn’t ache to watch the sunrise or the rebuilt Insomnia or the photographs Gladio and Noctis went through when they thought no one else was looking. He wanted to see all those things and more. But he did not spend every day lamenting his loss either. He had come to terms with his sight for the most part, and what was done had been done. He could not change the past. He could only move forward.

Ignis did not mourn his lack of eyesight.

But he desperately wanted to see Prompto now that he had returned.

He couldn’t, of course, and Ignis had made up for his impossible wish by touching Prompto’s face instead. He’d gotten carried away, but Ignis didn’t regret pulling Prompto close and kissing him then and there. Ignis couldn’t see him, but Prompto had responded exactly the way he remembered. He hadn’t realized he had forgotten the way Prompto tended to sigh into his kisses or the way he arched into Ignis’ touch until it happened and Ignis thought, _Oh._

It wasn’t the same as seeing it himself, but for a moment Ignis had been tossed into a thousand memories where they had done the same thing, and it had been enough.

Ignis prided himself on his composure. The period immediately after he had lost his sight had been rough, but the others had supported him as best they could and he felt he had adapted fairly decently. He had come close to cracking once or twice, but he had always reeled it in. There hadn’t been time to come undone then, and before he knew it, he had adjusted more than he realized. Enough to manage on his own once everything had fallen apart again. It had still been an uphill battle, but again, Ignis had always prided himself on his composure.

Composure. It was one of his most important traits.

He was ashamed to admit to the wave of anxiety that washed over him when Prompto suggested they visit the pond he had evidently emerged from.

It was ludicrous, really. If Ignis was going to suffer from some kind of stress or trauma, it made more sense to connect it to the front steps of the Citadel, the place Prompto had died, rather than the park that had allegedly assisted in Prompto’s return. And yet he couldn’t stop his brain from racing as Prompto made the suggestion.

Ignis thought _“park,”_ which lead to remembering his own words and _“rebirth”_ which led to _“beginning,”_ and somehow that became “ _If Prompto goes back to the start, everything will be undone.”_

It was an incredibly, horribly flawed chain of thought. It was nonsense.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Normally Ignis loved to know the why and how of things, but Prompto’s return was a miracle. It felt like if they questioned it too much, the gods would take him back.

Ignis had to tighten his grip on his cane to keep from visibly shaking.

The rational part of his brain recognized his fear as ridiculous and having no evidential basis, which is why he agreed to go. It made more sense to find some leads there than to do anything else. But the rest of him ashamedly wanted to protest, to keep Prompto locked away in the Citadel, away from prying eyes who could see Prompto and ask questions and force the universe to realize it had made a mistake and take it all away.

But Prompto had a say in his own life, and if he wanted to go out and explore, what was Ignis to do but support him?

There was no reason to be afraid. Ignis told himself that repeatedly. The worst was over, and there was nothing to fear.

And yet.

He lingered a bit closer to Prompto that night, discontent with just listening to Prompto talk and hum and not touch him. He wished he could reassure himself that Prompto was there by sight alone, but they had been given enough miracles for one lifetime. He made do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: Yes, I'm still planning on continuing this at the moment! Just taking a break for a bit!


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